


how coffee gets cold

by kintou



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Everything is fine everyone lives everyone is happy, Fluff, Fluffy oneshot, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 23:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14223918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kintou/pseuds/kintou
Summary: Jean decides to draw and observe a coffee shop for his school assignment, but he ends up with a notebook full of drawings of the cute freckled barista.(If you want the same old cheesy coffee shop fanfiction, you have found it!)





	how coffee gets cold

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> I am disgusting an ill so I decided to write this simple oneshot. Honestly I don't know if this is any good, but it's nice and fluffy. Anyway, take my snotty, disgusting, ill fanfic and ~enjoy~

I don’t know if he was trying to be secretive about it. As soon as he had finished putting something down on the paper he looked up again. It wasn’t a  ‘lost in thought’ kind of glance. It was focussed and concentrated. Sometimes he’d look around the room, but once he had found what he was looking for his eyes would keep coming back. 

Whether he was writing or drawing I couldn’t see. I could simply see his pencil move. I tried not to stare at him to figure it out, because I didn’t want him to feel like he couldn’t work here. 

I tried to just do my work, make coffee, clean the counter, do some dishes, but I kept glancing up at the guy. 

He frowned when working, biting his lower lip and sometimes rubbing his face roughly. It seemed more of an concentrated gesture than an frustrated one, with him. 

Everything became clean, somehow, and all the coffee I had to make was made. I don’t know why I was trying to avoid talking to the guy; he wasn’t sitting in a coffee shop for nothing. I looked at my black arpon, tried to get off some on the milk I had spilled, but it didn’t quite work out. 

Don’t make a big deal out of this, Marco. I tried to tell myself that, but not making a big deal out of such a guy seemed easier said than done. Still I managed to get out from behind the counted and walk up to the guy, who was focussing completely on his work now. 

He didn’t notice when I stood beside his table. 

‘Excuse me?’ 

“Hah?’ he looked up, as if surprised that I was trying to take another order. 

I rubbed the back of my neck. Tried to smile my best smile. ‘Would you like another drink?’ 

He looked at his half empty cup, as if surprised that it had gotten cold while he was sitting here. ‘Oh fuck, my coffee,’ he said. 

I laughed. ‘Sorry.’ 

‘Ah no need, I was just.. you know.. work.’ 

‘Yeah, I do that too when I finally get going.’ 

It started raining outside, suddenly, too hard compared to how the weather had been. The artist and I both looked at how it suddenly fell from the sky, before going back to talking.

‘So, would you like another drink?’ 

‘Sure, I’d like another coffee.’ 

I glanced at his notebook. He was drawing. I couldn’t quite make out what he was drawing in this piece, yet.  ‘Coming right up.’ 

He handed me his cup. Our fingers touched. His were cold. 

Once I was back I couldn’t not look at him. I did my work, sure, but I kept coming back to him. 

 

There were some other customers who came in, asking for some take-away. When they did the guy could look up, and his eyes met mine. He quickly started scribbling some things down. I got distracted. ‘Excuse me?’

‘A latte with a vanilla shot.’

‘Alright coming right up.’ 

The guy was smiling at me from his place as I took orders. ‘Who’s next?’ I called while making the coffee. A latte with vanilla, a cappuccino, one earl grey tea, another cappuccino. Just do your job, Marco. 

The girl who had ordered the earl grey tea blushed as I gave her her order. She waited while the rest walked outside. ‘May I ask you what your name is?’ she asked. 

‘It’s Marco.’  I grinned, getting nervous. I didn’t want to tell them, I didn’t want to give them hope. I wanted to tell them I only liked guys. 

There was never a guy who asked me for my name. 

‘My name is Anna, nice to meet you.’ she said. I wondered if that was all. ‘I’ll see you.’

‘Please come again.’ She was pretty. Not my type. My type was more like-

I glanced at the artist. He was smirking up at me. Then he went back to work.

 

‘You-’ why did I want to speak to him so bad. ‘You should drink your coffee, it’s probably becoming cold again.’ 

He picked up his coffee. ‘Thanks, I admit I was forgetting it again.’ 

I leaned over the counter. Looked around the shop. There were no people sitting anywhere near us. ‘What are you working on? If you don’t mind telling me.’ 

A blush crept to his face. ‘I’m.. I had to observe a place for my school. They told us to just go sit somewhere and try to get as much as possible down on paper.’ 

That explains it. I grinned. ‘Such as?’ 

‘The way the room looks, who walks in, what is said.. I’m kind off.. Being a stalker, honestly.’ 

I laughed. ‘It’s fine. Tell me next time, I’ll make sure I look nicer.’

He rubbed his neck. ‘You.. you look good. This is nice.’ 

I must have blushed at least as much as he was blushing. Just change the subject a little, I told myself. Act normal. ‘But you have me in that notebook?’ 

‘Ehh-’ 

‘It’s fine- really, it’s alright.’ 

‘I’m not writing or drawing anything weird. We have to be objective you know.’ 

‘That’s awesome.’ I wondered if I could ask him if I could see some of the things he had written or drawn.  ‘What do you study-’

 

Just then someone walked in. The guy decided not to answer because of the customer walking my way. He took his coffee and sipped it nervously. I gave him an apologetic smile. 

‘How can I help you?’ 

The woman glanced from her phone to the menu on the wall. ‘A large coffee please. Black.’ 

‘Take-away, or-’ 

‘Yes. Take-away, please.’ 

‘Sure, coming right up.’ 

As soon as the lady got her coffee she walked out of the shop again. I mumbled an half hearted bye. 

 

The artist guy got up. He said down on the counter, with all his stuff except from his empty coffee. He made me nervous. I stared at him. He looked closely at all of the bottles we had standing on the counter. Vanilla, chocolate, spiced biscuit, white chocolate, etc. He drew those bottles. Then he looked at our coffee machine, tried to draw that one too. 

He had a sharp jawline and cheekbones. I liked that. His hair seemed brown near his head, but more of an ash-blonde at the tips. His skin was uneven and light. He was really pretty. 

‘Do you mind if I draw you? Draw you really good, this time, from closeby.’ 

I blushed. So he had drawn me already.  ‘Sure, I don’t mind.’ 

‘Thanks.’ 

‘I can’t sit still though.. I- I have to work.’ 

He smiled. ‘That’s alright.’ 

I watched him draw. I watched his fingers move over the paper. I watched him sketch me. Honestly, I didn’t get much work done. I pretended to work. There wasn’t much to do anyway, and his boney long fingers weren’t really helping me in any way. His fingers were really nice. 

When I started working again, he started talking. ‘I’m in art college, my last year.’ 

His last year. He was probably my age. 

I made him another coffee. I was bored, and I wanted him to like me. I put the coffee down next to his notebook. He looked up.

‘On the house,’ I mumbled. 

‘Thanks. You’re really nice.’ 

‘So are you..’ I watched him put the freckles on his drawing. ‘I’ve never had someone draw me before.’ 

‘You’ve got a good face for it.’ 

“I- Thanks.’ 

He smiled while putting some of the last shadows on his drawing. ‘What’s your name?’ 

‘Marco.’ 

He nodded.  _ Marco,  _ he wrote above the drawing. I watched closely as he wrote my name. ‘Marco,’ he repeated. ‘That’s nice. I like that.’ 

‘What’s your name?’ 

‘It’s Jean. French, written as the same as jeans.’ 

‘I like that too.’ 

He drew a lot. He was concentrated, didn’t seem to give two shits that I was watching him anymore. That was nice. While working next to each other we became comfortable with each other. He drew me a few times. While working, bigger, smaller, while smiling, with color. 

It became darker outside. The rain had stopped. I wished I could just sit next to him and watch him draw forever. But the sky was telling me that time did go by. My shift would end soon.

 

As expected. Historia walked in somewhere, wearing a cute raincoat and nice boots. She grinned brightly when she saw me. ‘Marco! Sorry for being late.’ 

‘It’s fine.’ 

Jean stared at her. His mouth wide open. Something inside me turned. Somehow that made me realise that I wasn’t special. I honestly didn’t want this piece of space in which I was with Jean to be interrupted, but it was. It made me nervous, jealous. I hated myself for that. 

‘I hadn’t noticed how late it had gotten,’ I told her. 

Jean smiled at her, said an awkward ‘Hey.’

“I’m going to get my coat.’ I pulled off my apron and walked into the back of the store. There I took my coat, big and brown, and pulled it on. I took my bag off the floor and hung it around my shoulder. 

When I walked back Jean was still drawing. I wondered if I should have asked for his number. If it was weird if I asked him to leave with me, grab a bite with me. I wondered if I could just tell him that he was pretty, and that I wanted to hang out with him. I wanted to scream as I left ‘I’m gay! What about you?!’. 

‘Bye Jean,’ I simply said. 

He turned around and looked at me. ‘See you, Marco.’ 

‘Good luck with the assignment.’

 

* * *

 

The next day was an saturday so I was working together with Historia. She had already started the machine, cleaned what needed to be cleaned. 

‘Good morning.’ I mumbled. 

Historia smiled. ‘Hey, Marco.’ 

She handed me a cup of coffee, probably noticing how tired I was. ‘Who was that guy who was here yesterday?’

‘Hm? The one at the counter?’ 

‘Yeah, that one.’ 

‘His name’s Jean, met him just yesterday.’ 

She stared at me, a big smile on her face. ‘He’s kind of cute.’

It felt as if my heart sank to my stomach. I wanted to die for liking him this much, this fast. ‘You don’t even- you don’t like boys right? Did he- flirt with you or-’ 

Historia grinned. ‘I don’t know, he just seems nice.’ 

‘Historia.. Please-’ 

She chuckled, ‘You like him?’ 

‘wha-I- I just met him. If you like him then-’ 

‘Marco, you know I have a girlfriend, right?’ 

That stopped my mind from going into the gutter. I knew that. I had known that. Of course. ‘Yeah.’ 

‘I didn’t really have a chance to speak to him. He left as soon as you did.’ 

‘Oh-’ 

‘He left something for you though.’ She got some papers she had put on top of the books we wrote reminders on. They were put together with a paperclip. She handed them to me carefully. ‘I didn’t want to look at it, but I couldn’t help myself.’ 

I pulled the paper loose and looked at them. He had given me the drawing of me blushing, smiling awkwardly. I looked at the next one. That was one of my hands, holding coffee. Then I took the last paper. There was no drawing on that one, though I was not disappointed. There was a phone number written on it. 

I checked every number. Looked at his handwriting. The paper felt unreal in my hands. 

‘Marco, you’re going to stare a hole into that paper.’ 

‘I- uh’ I took my phone out of my pocket and put his number into my phone. ‘Sorry, I’m just going to-’ 

‘Do your thing, Marco, there’s no one in anyway.’ 

Historia made the shop ready while I tried my best to send a normal text. I went with something like ‘ _ Thank you for the drawings’ _

I tried to work, I really did, but every time I got a tekst I looked for an excuse so I could read it anyway. I was like a teenager getting their first love. I didn’t even know if he could like me. I really wanted him to, though. I stared at his name in my phone. ‘ _ Jean.’  _ Written as jeans but pronounced french. I had chosen a emoticon of a painting pallet for after his name.    
Eventually Historia got annoyed with it and told me to just check my text while I was next to her. When I had time I did. 

Around two pm he send me  _ ‘got to show what I did for the project in a bit. Scared shitless.’  _

I laughed at that. He’d be fine. 

_ ‘Good luck’  _ I replied.

After that I didn’t get any text anymore. I talked with customers and made them their coffee. I did the dishes, put on some good jazz. 

Historia asked me some things about Jean. I couldn’t answer any of her questions. I really knew nothing about him. He was in art school, he was damn handsome, he had guts, he liked black coffee. That was about it.

I was doing the dishes when Historia dragged me to the counter. ‘Marco, marco, come here,’ she called. I walked towards the counter, to the shop, to see what she wanted from me. She nodded towards the door once, and then she walked to the room where we did the dishes. 

I looked  at what she had pointed me to. It wasn’t what I had expected. Ash coloured hair, wet from the rain, black coat. 

‘What a shit weather,’ was the first thing he said. 

I grinned. ‘Hey, Jean.’ 

‘Hey! I did it!’ 

‘W-What?’ 

‘The presentation was good! Everyone loved my drawings and observations.’ 

I grinned. ‘That’s awesome.’ 

Jean walked up to the counted and sat down as if he lived there. ‘I deserve a coffee, I guess.’ 

‘Definitely,’ I said, grinning. 

I started making him his coffee when Historia peeked around the corner. ‘He gets off in half an hour.’ she simply said, then she went back to work. I blushed at that.

‘Oh-’ Jean says softly.  ‘D-do you want to go get coff- dinner- food?’ 

I chuckle. ‘I’d like.. Food.. yeah.’

 

* * *

 

‘Favourite song?’ Jean asked before shoving spaghetti into his mouth.

I laughed at him. ‘Sympathique, Ben l’Oncle soul.’ 

“Good choice.’ he mumbled. ‘A cigarette and a silhouette’

‘I don’t know that, send it to me.’ He nodded happily. ‘Ethnicity?’ 

‘French and dutch.’ he sayd. 

‘Italian,’ I followed. ‘Can you sing in French?’ 

‘God damn bet I can.’ he grinned way too bright, then he sang: ‘ Ma chambre a la forme d'une cage. Le soleil passe son bras par la fenêtre.’  

The first sentences of my favourite song. I swear, I fell in love with him that second. I had. liked him before, but that second, he made my heart jump out of my chest. 

‘That’s beautiful.’

‘So- uh- sexuality?’ 

I stared at him, trying to figure out if he wants to ask more than just another question in our big list of questions. He seemed embarrassed. ‘I’m- I like men. I’m gay.’ I said it hassistant, hoping it wouldn’t make it awkward.  ‘What about you?’ 

He straight up grinned, satisfied. ‘Me too.’ 

We stare at each other for a while. We must look like damn idiots, just giving each other goopy smiles, letting our spagetti become cold. 

‘Uhm- next question,’ I speak up first. 

‘Can I come over to draw you again?’

I stare at my almost empty plate. ‘Yeah. I’d like that.’ 

‘Next question.’ 

‘Did you- did you think of this as a date when- when you asked me?’ 

He bites his lips. ‘Yeah.’ 

‘That’s.. That’s nice. This is a nice date.’ 

He grins.

 

 

When our plates are taken away we offer some coffee. While drinking the last bit he takes out a notebook; the notebook he was drawing the coffee shop in. He carefully hands it to me. ‘I figured you’d want to see.’ 

The first page is just the coffee shop. All the walls are drawn, the shop from above, he redrew the painting that were hanging on the wall, he drew the counter with me behind it as a mere shadow. Then there are quick sketches of customers. Words about what they were wearing, what colour clothes they had. On one page he described how the girl asked for my name.  _ ‘Stay objective!’  _ says the page, as if he had to remind himself.

He blushed, getting why I laughed. ‘I just thought.. You were so pretty and- you know.’ 

‘Do I know?’ 

‘Shut up.’ 

He drew the half empty cup of coffee, a full cup of coffee, me, me again, my hands, then me but closer, the bottles, the coffee machine, me, me. I stare at every single drawing of me way too long. Almost as if I’d appreciate my own face more than his drawing, but its just.. So accurate.

‘I- uhm- I think you’re beautiful, Marco.’ he said. 

‘Thank you.’ I thought he was beautiful too. He stared at me so seriously, like I held the answers to all his questions, and I didn’t. I just wanted to hold him. ‘Do you want to get out of here?’ 

He nodded. I put money on the table that had to cover at least all of the expenses, and then we both stood up. He kept staring at me.

‘My house is close.’ I mumbled.

He nodded, not seeming to be listening to me. 

It took one street for him to find an alley he found calm enough. He pulled me in and pushed me against the wall. ‘Is this alright-’ 

I pulled him closer, pushed my lips on his. It was hard, and rough. It softened up, though. He moved his lips against mine slowly. His tongue hit my tongue, circled around it, and licked my lips before we closed our mouths against each other. We stood like that for a while, kissing, shivering because of the cold, feeling each other’s skin. He let his hands travel from my chin, into my neck and from there into my hair. 

It took a while, but eventually he whispered against my lips: ‘let’s go.’

 

* * *

 

I open one eye. There’s bright sunlight shining through my curtains. It takes me a while that there’s someone sitting next to me. For a second my heart beats faster, then I realize who it is. 

He’s drawing me. I see his hand move over the paper carefully. 

‘Jean?’ I whisper.

He takes his hand off the paper for a second, strokes my face with it, then he goes back to drawing. ‘Goodmorning.’ 

‘Yeah, good morning,’ I answer. 

I pull the blanket up to my face a little more. He frowns. ‘I am drawing you.’ he said. 

‘Draw me from memory, then.’ 

He puts away the paper and his pen, then he sits on top of me. ‘No, I want to see you.’ 

He pulls on the blanket. I hold it tightly. He drops himself on top of me, holds my cheeks, plants a kiss on my forehead. ‘Let me kiss the rest?’ 

I pull the blanket down so he can see my nose. He kisses my nose. ‘Your mouth?’ 

I moan a complaint, let him pull the blanket down anyway. He kisses my mouth, then he grins and pulls the blanket down a little more. ‘Let me draw you.’ 

I laugh and pull him down, then I pull the blanket on top of both of us. ‘Cuddle me and I’ll let you.’ 

  
  
  
  



End file.
